


Better Than Chocolate Chip Ice Cream

by meditationsinemergencies



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: F/M, Ice Cream, Mutual Masturbation, Oral Sex, Smut Fest, Squirting, Vaginal Fingering, dildo
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-11
Updated: 2020-09-11
Packaged: 2021-03-07 00:28:21
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,385
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26407993
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/meditationsinemergencies/pseuds/meditationsinemergencies
Summary: Hermione is thrilled to be having a weekend away from work. Draco is apprehensive about coming to a massive party at the Weasley's. The two find themselves sharing a lot more than anticipated.
Relationships: Hermione Granger/Draco Malfoy
Comments: 20
Kudos: 153
Collections: Farewell to Summer: The 31 Flavors of Smut





	Better Than Chocolate Chip Ice Cream

**Author's Note:**

> This work is part of Farewell to Summer: The 31 Flavors of Summer! Major kudos and props and gratitude to [FaeOrabel](https://archiveofourown.org/users/FaeOrabel/profile), [KoraKwidditch](https://archiveofourown.org/users/KoraKwidditch/profile), and [WordsmithMusings](https://archiveofourown.org/users/WordsmithMusings/profile) for putting together such a sweltering and sticky fest to end summer. I had so much fun writing this piece. 
> 
> Also, I am eternally grateful for [KrumPuffer](https://archiveofourown.org/users/krumpuffer/profile) for letting me talk and talk and talk about this work and for helping me shape it into what it is. Also, also, this work wouldn't be what it is if not for [adavison](https://archiveofourown.org/users/adavison/profile) and her amazing editing skills--you are making me a much better writer with every piece we work on. 
> 
> Thank you both for your friendship, your words, your thoughts, and your writing.
> 
> And, thank you, dear reader, for, well, reading. I hope you enjoy it. Heed the tags.

***

Draco steps into Harry's office and clears his throat to get his colleague’s attention. Harry looks up from a file he’s reading and smiles, "What's up, mate?"

Draco holds up a card--magical in nature, like a howler but instead of screaming it's bursting out bits of confetti. "What's this about?"

"Ginny convinced Hermione to change the spell pattern in a howler for Lily's first birthday card."

Draco snorts, "There's confetti all over my bloody files."

Harry laughs, "I'm sorry. Sort of."

"Why'd you invite me to your kid's birthday?"

"Why wouldn't I? We're colleagues. We're friends. It's a big to-do. A weekend thing. It's Lilys' birthday but it'll just be a bit of celebration of, you know, everything being normal and good." Harry shrugs. 

Draco cocks an eyebrow, "No one will want me there." 

"Sure they will. Don't be so self-conscious, you're a grown man." 

Draco clicks his tongue at Harry's remark, "I'll think about it." He leaves Harry's office and walks back into his own, shoving the confetti-spitting envelope in his bottom drawer.

_I'm definitely not going to that,_ he thinks as he begins to clean-up his desk. 

***

Five floors below, Hermione giggles with excitement as confetti spews over her desk. She is so pleased with how well the spell works that she doesn't even mind the mess. She hums as she reads over the invitation and then marks it on her calendar. It is the only weekend in the next few months that she'll have off. The only weekend where she'll be free to relax and rest, eat loads of cake and ice cream and snuggle James, Albus, and baby Lily. She cannot wait. 

***

Sitting at his desk in his office, working late, Draco opens his desk drawer and sees the invitation. He told Harry he had work and couldn't make it. He runs his fingers along the edges of the card and thinks for a second about how nice it would have been to be around a bunch of jovial people. All the large parties he had as a child were never really about him or about fun or about enjoying one’s friends and family, they were about status and tradition. 

As if he summoned it, there is a tap at his office window. He turns and sees Harry and Ginny's owl. The owl swoops in and lands on his desk, looking around for the treats he knows Draco will give him. Draco chuckles at the owl and takes the letter. Inside is a note from Harry:

_Sure you don’t want to help? Loads of ice cream here._

Behind the note are the complex instructions to an equally complex looking playset. Draco muses this and writes Harry back:

_Damn, Potter._

_You know my two weaknesses._

_Ice cream and an opportunity to show you up._

_I’ll have the playset together in no time._

_Faster than you and Weasel for sure. See you shortly._

Draco arrives at The Burrow and is a bit taken aback by how warmly he is greeted, not just by Harry but Ron and Ginny and Mr and Mrs Weasley. It’s a bit later in the evening, so most of the guests for the big party tomorrow have made their way to their respective rooms. Draco is a bit befuddled by the playset, and between him, Harry and Ron, by eleven the monstrosity is together. 

The men move to the kitchen where Mrs Weasley had served them up chocolate chip ice cream. There’s no way she knows, but this is, without a doubt, Draco’s favourite ice cream—simple, but undeniably delicious: he loves the bitterness of the semi-sweet chocolate chips paired with the creaminess of the vanilla. He finds it especially refreshing at this hour after he’s worked up a sweat. Harry and Ron retire for the evening and Draco sits up with Mrs Weasley in the kitchen chatting about things. 

“Draco, dear, I do believe that there’s no empty room for you to sleep in.” 

Draco clears his throat, a little embarrassed, and says, “That’s fine. I can go home. I’ll come back in th—”

“Nonsense. What I meant was, we have room for you, but not an _empty_ room. Most people are doubling up. We have such a small house, that’s just how it goes.” She waves her hands about and then scoops up more ice cream for him. “The only room that doesn’t have more than one person is Hermione’s.” 

Draco chokes a bit on his ice cream, “Granger?”

Mrs Weasley laughs softly, “Do you know any other Hermiones, dear?”

He shakes his head and takes a bite of ice cream before saying, “She won’t do it.”

The plump older woman nods her head back and forth and sighs, “She will. She might be hesitant about sharing the room with you, but it’s only for two nights, and, well, bring her a bowl of ice cream. It’s her favourite flavour.” Mrs Weasley grabs another bowl and puts three scoops of the chocolate chip ice cream into it. With a flick of her wand, she casts a cooling stasis charm on the bowl so it won’t melt. 

“Now, you finish up your bowl. You deserve it. Trust me, dear. Without you, Harry and Ron would still be putting together that playset. Merlin knows those two are a total mess sometimes.” 

A mouth full of ice cream Draco nods in agreement. 

  
***

Hermione lies in the full-size bed in the smallest room in the upper-corner of The Burrow. She charms the sheets so they are extra soft, lowering the air in the room to her favourite temperature. She’s showered, shaved, washed and conditioned her curls, done a face-mask, had several glasses of wine, and now she can...masturbate. 

She’s almost ashamed to admit that she’s going to be masturbating at The Burrow, but the last time she stayed here she had a sex-dream, woke-up insanely turned on, and thus worked herself into a blistering, soaking wet, squirting, _yes squirting_ , orgasm unlike ever before; she’s learned that she can only truly enjoy herself when she’s far from home where she cannot do any work or think about work or think about thinking about work. The Burrow and its busy atmosphere always force her brain to shut off the part that is constantly working on, well, work. 

She’s tried at home to make herself come like that again, to feel her legs give out, to feel her belly clench, as she comes--warm liquid coating her centre, her legs, the bedsheets beneath her. She believes it has to do with home and her association of home with work and work and more work. Hermione knows that she needs to be in an environment that allows her a complete and utter escape from that part of her life. 

Hermione lies atop the bedsheets, she’s charmed a radio to play some of her favourite Muggle tunes. Just as she’s toyed with herself long enough, she reaches over and grabs a girthy, emerald green dildo. She smiles as she admires it. She casts a charm on the bottom of it, so it sticks, like a suction cup, to the bedsheets. Oh, she is so excited to try this beauty out. She reaches over and takes a gulp of wine. She is, admittedly, a bit nervous. What if she can’t have an orgasm like that again? She’s done her research, she knows she _can_ do it. She just has to tap into it somehow--the mindlessness of it, the letting go of all rational thought, to just giving in to primal instincts and desires. 

She hovers over the dildo, she’s wet, she’s ready, but she’s not sure she’s quite there yet, so she teases herself, pushing the tip of it against her sex just so before moving away. She slips out of her nightgown and toys with her breasts, pulling and tugging, gently at first and then rough, on her nipples. Finally, without thinking about it, she lowers her hips and slides herself onto the dildo. Gasping, she recognizes the size of it, how full and heavy it feels within her. Now, at this point, she doesn’t care if she squirts when she comes, she doesn’t even care if she comes, she just wants to feel this inside of her. 

***

  
Hesitantly, Draco cleans up his bowl of ice cream and makes his way up the stairs to Hermione’s room—her bowl of ice cream in hand. He is fully prepared to be kicked out. That’s fine, he tells himself, he wouldn’t blame her. He’ll sleep in the hallway or something. Perhaps, he thinks, the room will be big enough so that they can transfigure something into another bed. He is so lost in thought that he forgets to knock, he also, admittedly, assumes Mrs Weasley told Hermione. Surely she would have told her, but as he enters the room, he realizes that she did _not_ tell her; Hermione is far from expecting him.

He only watches her for a second--more so in shock than anything else. He sees her heavy breasts jiggling, her eyes shut, her bottom lip sucked into her mouth, her hair--wild and frizzy thrown into a bun. His eyes can’t help it. They move down and he sees a thatch of dark brown hair and an emerald green dildo coming together and apart. “Oh! Fuck! Salazaar! I’m so sorry.” He stumbles a bit and turns towards the door and, for good measure, throws his hand over his eyes.

He hears Hermione whispering “Oh, no. Oh, no. Oh my. Merlin, no," as she seems to move about. He hears her shuffling and moving and finally, he hears, “What the hell are you doing, Malfoy?”

Still not turning towards her, he reaches out the hand not covering his eyes, handing her the bowl of chocolate chip ice cream. “Harry needed my help with the fucking kid’s present, and Mrs Weasley said I could share a room with you. She said to bring you ice cream as a peace offering. I figured she told you! I didn’t think you’d be in here...you know. Fuck!”

He feels the bowl leave his hands as Hermione takes it. He hears spoon clanking against the bowl, and Hermione responds, obviously with ice cream in her mouth, “Yeah. She knows this is my favourite. Fine. I guess you can stay. I’m decent. You can turn around. Merlin.” 

He lowers his hand and turns towards her. She’s in a t-shirt and pyjama bottoms now, forgoing the nightgown she was wearing earlier for something more modest, and he notices that despite the frumpiness of the pyjamas she looks extremely gorgeous. He notices, too, that he just thought her to be gorgeous and that he has a slight erection. He groans internally at his half-hardened cock and begins to survey the room. Too small. Way too fucking small for another bed. 

“So,” he says, clearing his throat, “we’ll have to share a bed.”

Hermione, spoon in mouth, shrugs what he assumes to mean a yes and climbs onto the bed. He wonders, for a second, what she did with that dildo. 

For the next little while, Hermione sits cross-legged on the bed eating ice cream and Draco laya back stretched out, and silent. Draco finally says, “That’s my favourite ice cream, too.” 

She turns to him, her eyebrow raised, “You take my room and now you want my ice cream, too?”

He shakes his head, “Dammit, no. I was just making conversation, Granger. By Salazaar, woman.” 

“Hmmm. Yes, well it is quite good. Do you want a bite?”.

He laughs, “No. Mrs Weasley filled me up with it earlier.”

“Yeah.” Hermione says knowingly, “She does that.”

Full, Hermione sets the bowl under another cooling stasis and rests it on the small bedside table. 

Draco leaves momentarily to use the loo and the two quietly and a bit awkwardly settle into bed. Hermione tosses and turns and, to Draco, seems deeply frustrated. 

“So…” he begins, the room dark now. 

“So, what?” she retorted quickly, almost defensively.

“I didn’t realize you could handle such a massive cock, Granger. I’m impressed, honestly.” He laughs at the end of his statement as if it’s clear he’s trying to be friendly and funny and a smartass all at once.

He can feel her body shift beside him, she’s turned towards him now. “Oh, I can handle it, Draco. I can handle a whole lot. A lot." 

Her voice is low with warning and Draco finds himself immediately turned on by it, his cock twitching beneath his pyjama bottoms.

He turns towards her too, the pair very close now. “Prove it.” 

***

Hermione is a bit taken aback by herself and her own words, but she’s aroused and desperate for release. She thinks to herself that she should know better than to egg-on Draco Malfoy but a very large part of her wants to. 

She leans in closer to him, all rational thinking is lost, she can feel her centre throbbing with anticipation. "Fine. I will."

In the darkness, his eyes adjusting, he can feel her move off the bed, sees her pulling down her pyjama bottoms, and hears her mutter spell. 

Hermione is wrecked with nervousness but also incredibly aroused as she climbs back into bed with her dildo. 

Draco isn't the least bit nervous, he's amazed and surprised and, honestly, a little confused, but he's most certainly aroused. His cock is straining against his soft pyjama bottoms, and he knows she can see it. 

She sticks her dildo, with what he assumes is a sticking charm to the bed, very close to him, so close that when she straddles it her thigh is going to brush against his. He still isn't quite sure this is going to happen. 

"Granger," he begins, letting his arm fall into the bed, the pads of his fingers resting against her thigh. "I was only joking. You don't have to prove any—"

She snaps in reply, "I want to!" Her voice lowers to almost a whisper, as she leans into his almost ghost-like touch, "I need to." 

He props himself up on his elbow, and with his other hand pulls her towards him; he kisses her lightly, questioningly. She kisses him back with a hard and desperate answer, opening her mouth and sliding her tongue against his. Her tongue is still cold from the ice cream, and she tastes of vanilla. He laps at her tongue with his, already addicted to the taste of her mouth. As they kiss, the pulsing at her core intensifies, and she can feel her arousal slick against her folds. She notices the warmth of his hand as it runs up her thigh, and, as his hand arrives at her hip, she slides herself slowly on to her dildo. As she gasps at the feeling of it inside her, Draco pulls his mouth away and lets his eyes wander over her body. 

He is in awe of her: the way her thick thighs move as she fucks her dildo, the way her blush-coloured folds swallow the emerald green girth and then reveal it again, slick and shiny with her wetness, her breasts, still hidden beneath her t-shirt—bouncing, her bottom lip tucked between her teeth. 

For a while, he just watches, taking in the sight of her, but then it's too much, and he, too, is now desperate for release. He jerks down his pyjama pants, his cock springing free, and he takes his length into his hand. His eyes flutter shut for a second at the sensation, but he opens them up quickly, as to not miss anything Hermione is doing. One of her hands has moved beneath her shirt, and he can tell she's roughly rolling her nipple between her fingers. He groans loudly at the sight of her and the feel of his own hand. 

Her eyes open at the sound of his groan, and she feels herself grow even more aroused. "Take off your shirt," she commands through breathy grunts. He does so, and nods to her, hoping she'll do the same. She lets her body rest on the dildo—it's buried deep inside of her now, pressing hard against her back walls—as she takes off her shirt, exposing her heavy breasts. Draco longs to suck one of her nipples into his mouth while tweaking the other and strokes himself hard at the thought. 

Hermione lets her eyes wander over his body. He is so handsome. His body is long and lean, his thighs muscular, his large hand wrapped around his long pink cock—the head glimmering, his chest is covered with light blonde hair, and something about this arouses her more. She has the sudden urge to sit on his chest, to finger herself while straddling him, to let her wet cunt grind against his chest hair. Suddenly, she knows what she has to do. 

She leans forward, laying her palms flat on the sheets, and begins to fuck her dildo hard. Draco is so enraptured by the sight of her, her moans, and the sound of her body fucking her dildo, that he stops stroking himself, his hand is unmoving but still wrapped tightly around his cock. He is certain she is about to come, but, then, she stops herself, and before he knows it she's on top of him. Her legs resting on either side of his ribs, her sweet snatch hovering above his chest. She looks down at him, like a goddess staring down a mere mortal, and, at this moment, he feels as such. 

He props his legs up behind her, rests his free hand on her thigh, and begins to jerk his cock again. She shoves two fingers deep into herself, hooking her fingers inside her, pulling at her g-spot. Her other hand finds its home on his shoulder. 

Through laboured breaths she asks, "Are you sure you can handle this?"

He nods breathlessly but gives her a questioning look. She quirks a smile and bends down near his ear, her plump ass pressing against his thighs. Her voice is low with daring, "Sometimes... I can be quite... messy… when I come. I hope you don't mind." 

She pulls away and straightens up again, toying with her clit with one hand while vigorously fucking herself with her fingers. 

He knows she's about to come when her thighs begin to tremble.

Hermione can tell it's going to happen, there is a tightness in her abdomen that's akin to cramping, the muscles in her thighs begin to lose control, and with one final flick on her clit, she comes. A gush of warm fluid covers not just her legs and her cunt, but Draco's chest, and it has shot onto his face. She can see it glistening in his chest hair and on his mouth and cheeks as she cries out, her heart pounding.

She doesn't hear or notice Draco coming but he does, right as he feels her squirting her warm come on him. His own orgasm shoots up and the trickles down his hand, coating his balls and thighs. 

Hermione does something short or collapsing next to Draco. Her thighs rest against him, and he can feel the muscles twitch and convulse. Still absurdly aroused, Hermione reaches over and runs her fingers through his chest hair, wet with her orgasm. He turns his head towards her, his face still shiny with her come, and he grins widely before sticking out his tongue and licking his lips and mouth clean. "Mmmmmm." He groans. "Would you like a taste? I swear your come tastes better than any chocolate chip ice cream I've ever had." 

She laughs softly and before she can answer his mouth is upon hers and he's kissing her slowly and sweetly. Casting a quick cleansing spell on himself as well as a contraceptive spell, too. He moves between her legs and she can feel his bobbing erection growing against her thigh. Moving his lips to her ear he whispers, "I'm going to lick up all your come, and then _I'm_ going to make you squirt all over my cock. Is that alright with you?"

He pulls away and looks at her, their noses almost touching. She smiles widely and nods enthusiastically, "Oh, yes."


End file.
